It Never Ends
by Naomi Takamura
Summary: It wasn't supposed to end like this. I wasn't supposed to fall for him, only to watch him die. We were supposed to stop the war together...But the pain and suffering...It Never Ends." Rated T for violence.
1. Wrath

Disclaimer: FullMetal Alchemist and all associated characters, concepts, and areas belong to Hiromu Arakawa.

A/N:: If there are any Spelling, Grammatical, or otherwise errors, please tell me in a review or message.

I am a young writer, so my work isn't always the best, I understand. Trust me, the FMA part is coming, but this is just the buildup. Don't quit on me now!

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It Never Ends…

The pain and suffering of the slaves around me. That would never end. They would die in the hellholes they'd been sold into. I wasn't going to let it continue like that. During the night, I crawled through my window and dropped lightly to the ground. The guards of the Slavehouse noticed me only after I'd slipped between the bars that made up a hefty gate. The fence keeping us away from the outside world and from freedom. Metals bars reached to the sky, the top lined with sharp points meant to skewer any that tried to climb over it. The only weakness was that the smaller slaves, such as myself, could fit between the bars. But who said it was easy? Why the guards saw me was that there was quite a bit of grunting and silent cursing going on. An alarm sounded quickly, and I panicked my way out of the bar trap I'd squeezed into. Slightly bruised, I fell onto my hands and knees for a moment, no longer. The men were already rushing towards me, and I had no time to lose. Not a moment to spare, or I'd certainly feel the guillotine as the demon blade sliced through my neck. And I didn't believe in God, so what would happen to me? Well, I'd already spent half my life in Hell, so there couldn't be anything worse. I made a mad dash for the river, which was under one-hundred feet from the Slavehouse, and flew over it. Guns raised and the familiar sound of a gunshot penetrated my eardrums. I froze. An ominous 'twang' came from beside me. Something flew past my ear. A guard slumped to the ground, an arrow protruding from his chest.

To my right, a native sat crouched behind the river bank. I knelt down next to him and smiled. He never returned the gesture. Instead, the boy stood and made a signal for me to follow him. Startled, I darted after him, as he had begun a quick weave through the forest, and I would soon lose sight of him. Their village wasn't far from the Slavehouse. It was no wonder they stole food so often, being right there. The moment I entered the little village, arrows were aimed at my heart from every direction. The natives obviously didn't trust Whites. I didn't blame them. There was a bloodstained history behind my people and the ones who had lived here long before us. Constant wars left Indian populations small and frail. The Whites pillaged their lands, driving the Natives far away, leaving them without shelter, food, or territory. Sometimes, in my history of slavery, I met young Natives, stolen from their villages. From their families, tribes, and friends. I knew how the life felt. It was awful, and many slaves had attempted to kill themselves while working in the kitchen or Butcheryard. One of my close friends had fallen to that fate.

Not wishing to dwell on the thought, I turned back to the situation at hand. Arrows, sharp and poison-tipped, were aimed at me from every direction. Was I going to die then and there? And had the Native lead me into a trap? Luckily, I managed to stay calm in order to wait through the situation. Native or not, part of the Tribe or not, my escort seemed to be attempting to convince the others that I was not an enemy. Slowly, and seemingly regretfully, the Tribe lowered their bows. One, a young man of fifteen years, hesitated more than the others. I learned later that he'd had a hard past with the Whites. They'd taken his mother from him, and his father had died long before that. It didn't matter to him that I meant no harm.

Over the next few days, the Natives introduced me to everyone. Their chief was a very kind, gentle man, far into his years. He didn't seem to mind my presence, but the aforementioned young man never trusted me, watching from the shadows. Of course, I didn't notice him at the time. They taught me their ways, showing me how to live for the first time I'd ever done so. I'd always done work for another, cut off completely from the world around me. I'd never noticed all the wonders of nature. I'd never known that Milkweed juice could be used as a natural glue, or that red mushrooms weren't poisonous, and some white ones were. My eyes had been opened to the world, and they would never be closed. I was a fast learner, but I never fully learned their language. I just didn't have enough time.

Finally the day I would officially be accepted into the Tribe had arrived. Natives sat in a massive circle around the tree where their ceremonies were held. I sat on the roots of the tree, and the Chieftan stood beside me, calling to the Tribe, who answered. He ushered for me to stand, and so I did. I heard a wet 'thump', and a sharp pain in my back. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. They say your life flashes before your eyes when looking at the face of Death. Well, it didn't, and I'm grateful. I hadn't really had the best of lives. It was quick, even with the slowed time. Poison spread through my body, painlessly, which I was grateful for, and the world went black. Nothing more.

Well, until the last little detail. White light almost blinded me, and before me stood a massive stone Gate.

_To Be Continued..._

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Well, I'd like to know how I did with my first story that I've ever had a storyline in mind for... I'll try to update once or twice a week.

Please leave a review! Thanks!


	2. Before the Gate

**Disclaimer: FullMetal Alchemist and all associated characters, concepts, and areas belong to Hiromu Arakawa.**

**A/N:: If there are any Spelling, Grammatical, or otherwise errors, please tell me in a review or message.**

**I am a young writer, so my work isn't always the best, I understand. Trust me, the FMA part is coming, but this is just the buildup. Don't quit on me now!**

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Fear. That was all I'd felt for the past eight years, since I was nine. Since I'd become a slave. My masters had whipped me, and I was scared of them. I was scared of the pain. Of all the emotions I'd expected to feel as I gaped at the black doors looming over me, peace was not one of them. I knew I was dead and had long accepted the facts. At least, in many ways, death was better than slavery. When you're dead, you don't feel anything. You don't have to work. Or cook for others. You don't have to eat. As a slave, you have to break your back for your masters, tending crops in the field in the sweltering heat. You're barely fed, and you cook feasts for the ones who own you every night. When you're dead, you owe nothing. As a slave, you owe your lifetime.

White was the floor, the ceiling, the walls, and the nothingness. Now, I only had one question. Where was I and how did I get there? Ok, that was two questions. I decided I'd learn something about the massive door, seeing as I had nothing else to do. Adorning the black doors was a giant eye, at least twice my height in length and as tall as I was in width. Granted, I'm still, to this day, not that tall. Even so, it was a big eye. I had the strange feeling it would fall and crush me at any moment. But I was already dead, so why would it matter?

With a slight creak, the door cracked open a few inches. Black masses stood behind it. Hundreds of eyes blinked precariously, staring at me. Thousands of child-like hand reached out to tug at my hair and clothes. Not that my clothes were anything more than rags, anyway. Ignoring the hands with ease, I looked up to the mass of eyes. It was a bit daunting, to see just how many…beasts were behind the stone doors. Creatures that could be released at any moment. But released to what? The white nothingness? I didn't think that the nothingness would be affected by the masses, but maybe there was a path to my world through the blank dimension. Maybe they would wreak havoc, and that's why the doors had them closed away at all times. Not very likely. Anyway, back to subject. "What are you, and what is this place?" I didn't truly expect the door to answer, being a door and all. But, maybe the creatures inside would.

At first, there was no response. The eyes flicked to one another, and a slight murmur came from the mass. It was as if they were thinking of an answer. Still, my patience was running low. I was in a massive white…emptiness, with nothing to do, and it was beginning to look as though I had nobody to talk to, either.

"This is the Gate. We are the Gate."

"What's the Gate?" Short and to the point. I liked the door already, even if it scared me.

"The border between life and death. The portal between the two worlds."

"To worlds?" I murmured, feeling more idiotic with every passing second.

"Yes." The black mass just continued speaking behind the doors, eyes blinking, the hands tugging lightly.

"Well, I'm dead in my world," I explained. It felt odd to say I was dead, as I was standing in a physical form. The Gate probably already knew of my death. It seemed powerful, as if it controlled the two worlds.

"And…?"

I quickly assumed the Gate already knew what I was going to say, and that the many creatures were merely messing with me. It most likely knew how the conversation was going to progress and end. Still, I continued.

"Can I go to the other world?" I yelled, as if volume would aid my case.

The Gate remained silent for a moment, obviously pondering the question. Maybe, since it knew how it would respond, it was merely giving the answer dramatic effect.

"No." The doors slammed shut. So much for the idea of dramatic effect.

I stepped forward and threw my arms out, frustrated, not understanding. "Why?!" I screeched.

The doors creaked open, less than before, as if someone was peeking around the corner at me. "Because there is already a copy of you in that world."

"A…copy?" This shocked me. I'd thought there was nobody in the world that looked like me. But a complete copy? That was irrelevant.

"Forget it," the Gate growled in a popular 'you-are-so-stupid' tone.

"Please. I want to live like a normal person. I was a slave; I didn't have a life." I knew this wouldn't move the stone Gate, but I was desperate. The doors obviously didn't have any emotion.

"No." Again, the massive doors swiftly closed. I felt a slight wave of de'ja-vu.

Dejected completely, I turned around and sat, wrapping my arms around my knees. So, if I couldn't go to the other world, I would be stuck in empty space, forever, with the Gate. What would become of me? Was I just a spirit? It felt so real, though. Would I sit here forever, waiting? I blamed the Gate for not letting me through, and I blamed my 'copy' since they were the reason the Gate wouldn't allow me to the other world. Still wanting to have a conversation, I turned to speak. The Gate wasn't there. Where could it have gone? I'd previously thought that the Gate could only open and close. In what reminded me of solitary confinement, I resumed my lonely position. Would I always be alone? Or would the Gate return?

It seemed like days. Time obviously passed slower in the Gate. Days could seem like years, minutes could seem like weeks. It also depended on how patient the person was. If they had low patience and were not easily amused, a second would feel like decades. If one was very lucky, minutes would seem like minutes. Alas, I wasn't very lucky. Days felt like weeks. I grew not hungry nor tired. Only bored. Empty space was dull. Nothing to do, nothing to see. Nothing to smell nor touch nor taste. Was this just a dream? A figment of my imagination? It just seemed so real…

I still don't remember how long it took. I don't recall how long I sat there, unmoving, waiting for something. A sign. A voice. Something. Anything…

"Fine." It came from behind. I whirled around, only to see the Gate standing tall above me. It hovered slightly off what would and should be ground.

"You may go to the other world. But when you die, you belong to us." As this was said, millions of tiny hands wrapped around me and began to drag me into the black mass. It would be impossible to resist, even if I wanted to. A feeling of utter terror enveloped me, but I forced it back. I couldn't afford to panic. Not now. Not ever. This was what I'd wanted for so long, after all…

I stepped up the stairs and into the doorway.

…A life.

_To Be Continued..._

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	3. Forsaken by All

**Disclaimer: FullMetal Alchemist and all associated characters, concepts, and areas belong to Hiromu Arakawa.**

**A/N:: If there are any Spelling, Grammatical, or otherwise errors, please tell me in a review or message.**

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The sound of rain. The pitter-patter sound of thousands of droplets of water striking the ground at high speeds, an ear-shattering explosion of aural stimuli that would turn anyone insane had it not been for the fact that every living creature seemed predisposed to enjoy it and feel calmer, more relaxed. The clouds poured endlessly, crying for me. I knew not where I was, nor how I came to be there. My rags for clothing provided little protection from the freezing droplets, thus, I was soaked in an instant. Puddles gathered on the stone-and-concrete ground. The alley I'd pressed myself into was slightly darker than the outside square. A fountain rested in the center of said square. The square was only a large area of stone. It lacked grass, in my opinion. The streets were empty and abandoned aside from a black and white husky who came to sniff me as if we were old friends.

"Hey, boy. Are you a stray?" I asked, not thinking for a second the dog would answer me. He just sat and wagged his tail happily.

I had no idea what to call the dog, but I couldn't call him 'boy' or 'dog'. I'd never been good at naming. Then again, I'd never had to name anything. Well, he was black. He was a husky.

"How about 'Black Hayate'?" Black Hayate meant 'Black Husky'. The dog's ears perked at the name. I assumed he liked it. Even though Black Hayate was a dog, I could see a smile in his eyes, one that would never be seen in a human.

He sat by my side as the rain poured endlessly, the sky crying when I couldn't. I had nothing to cry for. I lost my home. The horrid, awful 'home' that I never belonged in. They always said 'Home is where the heart is'. True, I believed it. Still, my heart was nowhere and everywhere. I had no home, and I never had. I couldn't remember my life before slavery. I hated the SlaveHouse. I didn't know anything where I was. So, in a sense, I was lost.

He lay in my lap as the sun refused to rise. I'd seen the sunrise every morning as a slave, as my masters woke us up at 4 AM to tend their crops and make their breakfast.

He licked my face as I told my story of slavehood. We were whipped until our backs were marred, sometimes for no reason aside that our masters wanted something to be angry at. We were only allowed a small meal once every two days. It normally consisted of stale, moldy, or burned bread, leftovers from a meal that occurred three days ago, and a tiny cup of dirty water. We were all malnourished. Surprisingly, when I came here, I was no longer starving or dehydrated.

He whined when I realized I could no longer remember the past few days, and when I asked him where we were. The last I remembered, I was pulling a stave through the masters' corn field. The sun was hot, and the corn was dry. The masters hadn't given me any water to give to the corn, for fear I would drink it. The corn would die because of the heat and dry air. Then, of course, they would whip me because the corn was dead. They would blame me. They _always _blamed the slaves for their mistakes.

The rain poured on, along with the night. It seemed the two would never end, like a game of 'when you do this, I'll do this.' 'well, when you do that, I'll do this.'. Of course, it always went in a circle, and neither ever ended up doing what they'd said.

I don't know how I could've fallen asleep, what with the rain and Black Hayate's constant movement. But the dog was gone, and the rain still fell. Wet droplets cascaded from the fluffy masses above me that were anything but white. Granted, I loved the rain. I just hated being soaking wet. I was also alone. Black Hayate, even though he'd seemed so friendly, was gone. I would likely never see him again. But I should've guessed. Strays never stayed in one place for long.

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My stomach growled. I couldn't see the sun through the dark mass of clouds, but I knew it was there. Still, the day was just as dark as the night. With luck, I would soon find food, and not go another full night without it. I would do anything for the stale bread and dirty water. But the Past was the Past, and there was no point worrying about it. One of my close friends used to say to 'Live in the Present. The Past is gone and the Future isn't here yet'. So, living in the Present, I was in a strange new place, without anyone to talk to. It seemed the rain would never stop, but Time thought otherwise.

Soon, the rain had faded into mist. Fog had settled amid the city, clinging to various buildings and homes. It was difficult to see over a meter, and I could hardly see me own bare feet. For once, though, I was relatively clean. The blood had been washed from my neck and legs. My hands were no longer caked with dirt. True, I didn't appreciate being soaked, but water was better than dirt.

I was cold, wet, and alone. Could my life be going any better? I didn't even know when or where I was, let alone how I got there. So, I decided to figure it out.

By the time the rain had stopped, I was only a half mile from where I'd started. I would've been further if it hadn't been for the puddles and slick cobblestone. It was really no wonder why I was alone out there, with how sore my hips and backside already were. It went like this: _step, step, step, slip. Get up, step, step step, slip. _I was sore and wet and cold and hungry. And alone. Who knew how long this would last.

The days never seemed to pass. How long had I been walking? It was as if I was repeating the same few hours. I couldn't seem to get anywhere. True, slipping every few steps didn't help. One minute passed into the same minute. One day into the previous. The sun never broke through the clouds and the ground never dried. It seemed the cloud was endless. Was this place always like this?

When I could no longer walk; when my feet were sore and bleeding, the bottom rubbed away completely and the muscle below filled with pebbles, when my breathing was weak, I collapsed on the outer ring of a square. It looked the exact same as the last one, just smaller. It was night. I wasn't sure of the season or the year. Birds sung in the darkness, stars lighting up the sky. Good. The clouds had finally dissipated. Now just to wait until morning. Life could begin.

_To Be Continued..._

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**Please leave a review if you liked the story!**

**Review Replies: **

**DarkFlame Alchemist: **_Thank you for being my first, and so far, only, reviewer! This is actually, as I said in the first chapter, the first Fanfic I've had a real storyline for... Does that make it more interesting? But, as to what happens next, here ya go! I have the next chapter typed, and the 5th in my head, but I won't post for a few days yet. Aren't I cruel? Even my sister thinks so._

_Thinking of the paragraph length...sorry. I hate reading long parry's as well, but it's my style. (It's also how I get over a thousand words in each chapter. Shhh...) Again thank you for reviewing, unlike some people! *looks at other readers (if I have any)*_


	4. You're Not Alone

**Disclaimer: FullMetal Alchemist and all associated characters, concepts, and areas belong to Hiromu Arakawa.**

**A/N:: If there are any Spelling, Grammatical, or otherwise errors, please tell me in a review or message.**

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Morning came like a red-hot dagger. I had begun the day with a migraine, obviously obtained from the previous night. The sun, shining directly in my eyes, only seemed to intensify the burning headache. So much for a 'new day'. This place was hell, from what I could see so far. True, nothing was nearly as awful as slavery, but still. My feet were unbelievably sore, so much that I would rather have them fall off than walk. It was a miracle they'd stopped bleeding, seeing as I had no skin left on the undersides. There were still small rocks buried into the muscle, but it would be far too painful to take them out, so I left them as they were. So much for walking. It looked like I'd have to wait there before I could get anything to eat. There wasn't even a cloud in sight. It would be a beautiful day, and I could've enjoyed it if I hadn't felt so crummy. Life hated me. I'd known that for awhile, after slavery and all.

"Nii-San! Look at this kitten!" It was the voice of a boy not much younger than I came drifting through the air. My head pounded with the sudden noise.

"That's great, Al, but we can't have pets."

"But Nii-San!"

"Sorry, Al. But the dormkeepers won't allow it."

I curled over and help my head in my hands, the resounding pain only getting worse with their voices. I looked up at the two boys. Both had blonde hair, but the younger's was more of a bronze. Both had gold eyes. The older, yet shorter, of the two had a long, red coat with a strange insignia sown into the back. The younger worse virtually the same attire, the same black shirt and the same too-long black pants. One wore a braid. The other's hair was short enough to be considered a proper boy's length. The braid was just a bit odd.

"C'mon, Al," the older murmured, turning around. "We have to report to the Colonel about what we found in Lior." He spit the word 'Colonel' as if it was poison.

I'd never heard the word 'Lior' before, but it was obviously the name of a city. I ducked down, trying to stay unnoticeable. I didn't know anything of the people in this place. They could be hostile. But I knew the younger brother, Al, was staring at me.

"Al!" The older of the two was obvious impatient, not even waiting fifteen seconds for Al's response. Maybe Al always replied instantly.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry, Nii-San. But look at that girl over there." He pointed to me. I curled up tighter.

"Al, we can't have cats, let alone little kids." He obviously hadn't looked at me. I was fifteen, not a little kid. He turned to a massive building, the largest in the city, and began walking, muttering something about the Colonel he had mentioned before.

Al didn't follow him. Instead, the sandy-haired, golden-eyed boy ran towards me, ignoring his brother completely. He knelt down with a smile that could light up even the darkest of night. For just a moment, I forgot my past. The beatings, the slavery, the early mornings and the late nights. I forgot it all, and all because he'd smiled at me. His breath was sweet compared to the damp air. I was shocked at how little the boy seemed to care about personal space. It didn't bother me, seeing how close to one another the slaves had been forced to sleep. All ideas of privacy had vanished within the year. His face was directly in front of mine; our noses practically touching. His eyes seemed to gleam with kindness. His breath was warm and soft. I could feel my heart speed up, especially when he placed his forehead against mine. I blushed. What a strange boy. What a strange city.

"Nii-San! She has a fever!" He called to his older brother. The yelling made my head hurt even more.

The he sulked to use, walking slowly. "You're kidding me…Al, can't we just forget this happened and report to the Colonel?" He seemed frustrated. I shrunk back.

Al ignored his brother's rudeness. "Can you walk?" He looked down at me with soft eyes, whispering. He must've noticed me flinching whenever someone spoke. His brother was either oblivious, or not as kind.

"Of course she can walk!" His agitation seemed to grow. He wanted nothing to do with the mysterious girl dressed in rags. The pair couldn't afford to take anyone or anything off the streets. The dorms were barely big enough for the two of them. Al didn't seem to think that way. He'd always been the caring one. The one that would help anyone and everyone he could. He would always place others before himself. He would, even when he had been a suit of armor.

"Ed, stop being so rude." That was the first time Al had called his brother by his nickname, and not 'Nii-San'.

I answered the boy's previous question. I nodded and stood. My feet burned, and so I flinched. The golden eyes took note of every movement, He saw me cringe, but, thankfully, didn't do anything. He placed a hand on my back as if to steady me. He turned to Ed.

"I'm taking her to the dorm to rest. Go and report to the Colonel, or he'll be angry."

The older of the two glared at me. It was like shooting daggers; as if he was imagining me dead.

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About halfway through the long walk to the dorm, Al seemed to notice my bloody footprints, which had begun to show on the cobblestone only ten steps after we'd begun walking. He insisted on carrying me. I, not wanting to take advantage of him, silently refused. The answer seemed to bother him, but he didn't say anything for awhile after that.

I know, still, that pain, like spice in food, adds up over time, even if no wounds are added. It was the same way with my feet. I inhaled sharply with each step, the pain unbearable, and Al finally couldn't take it anymore. He swept me off my bleeding feet and carried me back to the dorm. I didn't protest through the pain. I was grateful.

He could hold my meager weight with ease. It wasn't surprising. I was five foot, five inches, yet the top of my head barely reached past his chin. I didn't mind being carried. Frankly, my feet hurt too much to walk. I was too fatigued to run, anyway. My lungs ached. My legs were sore. I had a migraine that had decided to stay. And, as Al had said, I had a fever. And thus was cold enough to be lying in a block of ice, naked. Al seemed worried about me as lay in his arms, shivering, my eyes closed. I was still wet, and so I felt slight guilt for sharing the dampness. Blood dripped off my heels, landing on the cobblestone. It seemed the bleeding would never stop, just as it had the night previous.

Al stepped up a short flight of stairs. The air around me was suddenly warm. I opened my eyes. Long, chocolate-brown hallways stretched as far as I could see. Doors lead into large rooms. Officers sat at desks, doing paperwork, some speaking with their underlings. Al turned abruptly, forgetting about the added width of my head and legs. I grunted slightly as my head was slammed into the wall when he turned. Of course, I looked up at him, as if to taunt. He grimaced in a silent 'sorry…' I laughed, even though everything made my head hurt, and the impact with the wall didn't help. People stared as he carried me down the hall. Some at the slight blood trail my feet left behind, others at the girl dressed in rags.

Out of nowhere, a very uptight-looking woman pulled up behind Al and began following us. I just stared at her. She had stern eyes, and bangs that made a perfect diagonal across her face. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, but the tips were visible above her head. She had blonde hair and reddish-brown eyes. She wore the same military uniform as everyone else; a deep blue jacket that was too short at the waist, and pants of the same color. All was rimmed with white. The woman smiled at me, and tapped Al's shoulder with the barrel of a gun. Al turned around.

"Hello, Miss Hawkeye." He smiled that 'light any dark room, nomatter the size' smile. The two obviously knew one another.

"I told you to call me Riza. But, may I ask, what happened to that girl?" It was obvious she was talking about me. I was dressed in rags. My feet were bleeding. My hair was a wreck, and I had dark marks under my eyes. I probably looked malnourished and weak. She had every reason to wonder.

"I found her in the square. She has a fever, so I thought I'd bring her back to the dorm to rest."

Riza seemed to be analyzing me, taking in my every move. I was curled slightly, barely towards Al. My hands were curled at my chest, and I barely had my eyes open. I was tired, and all I wanted to do was sleep. Of course, I probably looked pathetic to a military officer.

"Can you speak?" The question was directed at me, I realized, as Riza looked down at me with the hard, stern eyes. Eyes that said 'I'll shoot you if you disobey'. She was obviously a sniper.

I shook my head. I hadn't spoken to anyone except animals in over three years. I'd been taught to obey, and to do so silently.

Riza turned slightly. "I'll escort you to the dorm, then."

"But, Miss Hawkeye, I really shouldn't waste your time like that."

She glared at him. He stepped back a bit, obviously allowing her to lead him to the dorm.

As the two walked, Al looked down at me. He smiled warmly, and began to whisper to me. "Riza's not that bad. She's a bit stern, and seems to like pointing her gun at people when she doesn't get what she wants, but she's really nice." I looked up at him with innocent eyes, the eyes of one who'd been tormented since she was six.

It didn't take long, but we arrived at the dorm. Al thanked Riza as she opened the door. I smiled with half-closed eyes, still weary from the long three days. Three days that had felt like a year. And a long year, at that.

The dorm had five rooms. There was a small bedroom, only able to fit one bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a small cabinet. There was also the kitchen, with the typical kitchen supplies. A larger bedroom with one bed big enough for two rested west of the kitchen. A bathroom lay between the two bedrooms. To the south of the kitchen was a typical room. A small couch, a radio. Two potted plants, and a small table. There was nothing special about the dorm. Still, it was nice for how tiny it was. I saw why they couldn't have pets, aside from the rules. I felt bad for taking up space, but I really didn't have a choice.

Al set me down on the couch, and pushed the table aside so he could kneel down in front of me. I wondered what he was planning on doing. I was so confused. This new life was nothing like I anyone would expect life to be. But the couch was soft, and soon, I couldn't keep my eyes open. The last thing I saw that day was Al smiling at me. Things were finally looking up.

_To Be Continued..._

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**Please leave a review if you liked the story!**

**DarkFlame Alchemist:** _Ok, I get it. (feeling idiotic) And about Ed, he's a bit pissy in this chapter. Naughty Ed. But we love him, don't we! I'm actually comflicted as two who to pair the main character with...Her and Al are just so cute together! w_

**Amares:** _I'm already kinda starting on my typical downhill track. My writing becomes less descriptive and lazier. I can't seem to find out why. Then I find myself skipping around and it's frustrating...I get to the main idea of the story, and I feel like I'm doing that in this one as well, even though the climax and such are way far away. *reaches for them* And I think they might fall off a cliff sometimes soon. Bad memory, y'know? (Not really. Really, really good memory, actually.)_

_Thank you for the compliment. w Means a lot to me. And I know what you're thinking. "She doesn't seem sincerely grateful..." I just have a sad tendancy to use periods and virtually nothing else. I hate exclamation points unless someone's yelling. (Exclamation...did I spell that right?)_

_*lays head on desk* I have no inclination whatsoever to do anything right now. *lazy* I even had to think thrice about uploading this chapter... Oh, look at me, I'm babbling. =w=_

_**Look at that review! Aren't you all jealous? I'll give cookies to the next person who reviews, cuz' I'm feeling a bit neglected. T_T...**_

_** Thanks again to Darky (DarkFlame Alchemist) for reviewing first~! *huggles reviewers***_


	5. Impression, for once

**Disclaimer: FullMetal Alchemist and all associated characters, concepts, and areas belong to Hiromu Arakawa.**

**A/N:: If there are any Spelling, Grammatical, or otherwise errors, please tell me in a review or message.**

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For the 'who knew how many'th time, I gasped and scrunched my face at the pain. For more times than anyone could count, Al looked up at me and murmured 'sorry'. I just smiled, silently telling him everything was fine. I flinched, again, as he dug the tweezers into my foot. He looked to me. I nodded. With a face that said 'I'm so sorry, I promise to make it up to you', he pulled the rock out of my foot and dropped it into a plastic bag. With each rock, he tore out a little bit of muscle, and of course, blood came pouring out. He had placed a folded towel beneath my foot in order to keep the blood from staining the rug. I was breathing hard, and my fever had only worsened. A wet rag was laying on my forehead, a sign of Al's attempt to keep my temperature down. I was breathing hard, the pain taking its toll. And, to make it worse, he murmured "Half-way there." What he didn't mention? Halfway through _the first foot._ I didn't know how much more I could take. My feet stung like Hell's flame were licking the already torn and raw undersides, my head ached, I felt weak, like a ragdoll. But to make it all better, like a secret antidote, I was with Al, even if he was causing the pain.

'Plink'. Another stone fell into the bag. There were at least twenty already lying on the bottom, and they had long begun piling ontop of one another. It was utterly foul, seeing all the tissue that was wrapped around each one. I felt bad for Al, for he was the one gathering the stones. I dropped my head back, taking in air as slowly as possible, believing it would slightly ease the pain. Al hit a tender spot, and I arched my back, pulling my foot away.

"Don't move! There was one deeper in your foot. Another rock had pushed in farther."

I understood the reasoning behind the pain, but he could've warned me first. My awareness slipped a bit after that jolt, and I relaxed. After about an hour, Al stood. I looked up at him with glazed eyes. He smiled, obviously a bit worried.

"I finished with the first one. Do you want to take a break before starting again?"

I sighed and nodded weakly. He picked up the towel from the floor, which was now soaked with blood, and took it to the kitchen to wash it. A moment later, when he came back, I was still half-asleep. He sat down beside me, placing his hands on his lap.

"How are you feeling?"

I looked to him, my eyes foggy with sleep and pain. "Hurts," I murmured, dazed.

He took the rag off my head and replaced it with his hand. He then stood and re-soaked the rag with cold water. "Well, your fever's risen a bit, but not too much. Maybe I should ask Riza to call the hospital…"

I thought back to the stern-looking woman that had escorted us to the dorm. She seemed very nice, and Al obviously trusted her.

"By the way, what's your name? I'm Alphonse. Everyone calls me Al."

I stared at him, rolling the name over and over in my mind. I liked it, but it would be hard to remember, especially seeing the condition I learned it in. "I don't have a name. The SlaveHouse never gave us one."

He stared at me, gaping. It was like not having a name was unheard of, which was most likely the case.

"What's up with your brother?" I asked this just as the male in question opened the door.

Ignoring his older brother, Alphonse answered. "He can be a bit stubborn and uncaring sometimes, but he's really a nice person. By the way, since we're introducing ourselves, he's Edward."

I heard a slight clicking as Ed picked up the bag full of rocks. "What's this?" then be realized what was on the rocks, and his face twisted in disgust. He quickly dropped the bag and changed the question. "Where'd those come from, and is that muscle tissue on them?"

Al turned to face his brother, but with no smile at all. "Her feet," he gestured towards me. "And yes."

Edward grimaced. "And she took it? She actually let you pull them out?"

Al smiled brightly, as if he was proud. "Yeah, the worst she did was try to pull away, and only once."

Edward mouthed 'wow', and turned away.

It wasn't the first time he'd been rude, even though he'd showed an inkling of respect for me. I just couldn't ignore his nature. It was irritating.

He was so unlike his brother.

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**Review Replies:**

**DarkFlame Alchemist: **_I think you may like Ed a bit too much. Sure, I adore him down to the insignia on his cloak, but still._

**Amares:** _Sorry for the crappy replies, to both of'ya. 'm jus' really tired 'n' shit. Back to th' reply. 'm actually considering, strongly, mind you, quittin' this fic. Sorry, but I've jus' no want to write it 'nymore. But, thank you for th' support an' encouragement._

**_ATTENTION!_**

_'m seriously considerin' droppin' this fic. I'know ya liked it, but I can't 'elp but feel it's a waste of m' time. Now, I'd never leave ya with nuffin t'read, an' y'know that. But, it wouln' be an FMA fic that I star'ed anew. It would be a Legend a' Zelda fic, if y've 'eard of it. 'Course from the view of an OC, third person. Now, tell m' what y'think, as you are seen as m' close friends. _

_(Speakin' t' Amares and Darky) Pathetic, iddn'it? Th' fact that 've known ya for such a' short amoun'a time, yet feel so reluctant t'give ya up. So, if'ya don't know LOZ, go research an' fall in love with it. I want you two t'stay, loves._


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